


heaven

by prongsprobably



Series: falling from grace [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Fluff, LadyNoir - Freeform, Sexual Tension, Thirsty Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Unresolved Sexual Tension, honestly there's just so much thirst, one giant fluff, somebody bring her water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prongsprobably/pseuds/prongsprobably
Summary: “Oh, dieu, no. That would be terribly artificial, and we try to keep things natural here. You’re going to put a kiss mark on Adrien.”“How?”“Why, with your lips, of course!”





	heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first time I've written an MLB fic since joining/drowning in the fandom, so please be gentle (?). Unbeta-ed, so I apologize for any impending mistake. I hope you guys enjoy!

**_“_ ** _they say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you. **” // Heaven** – Julia Michaels_

* * *

 

It wasn’t her fault he looked downright sinful.

     No, no. He didn’t look sinful. In fact, he could’ve been sin incarnate, with his gaze that can burn through both fabric and soul. Honestly she should’ve known a superhero partner clad in black leather suit would be dangerous to her sanity—especially after four years of akuma fighting—and despite his apparent “bad luck”, time _had_ been kind to him. His soft edges had sharpened, bringing emphasis to the angles of his face where his mask was snugly laid. His shoulders broadened too, lean and sinewy built complimented by leather and spandex. If temptation had a body, his name would be Chat Noir in his prime age of eighteen.

Sometimes, Marinette resented this. Her body filled out, yes, and akuma-fighting certainly helped keeping her in shape, but somewhere along puberty her body decided to just stop growing, so now Chat _towered_ over her, a fact that he liked reminding her about.

“See something you like, milady?” of course he’d say that. With an accompanying playful grin, hip cocked into a ridiculous body pose as he looked over her shoulder. Marinette’s throat ran dry and she felt her face burn, but she couldn’t let him get away with that, could she? She already let him get away with her sanity, after all.

She let her lips curl into a smirk, eyes tracking the movement of his adam’s apple when he gulped, and she raised her gaze to meet his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

“O-oh?”

Chat’s gulp was nothing short of audible. She sauntered towards him, smirk smug as she cocked a hip and crossed her arms. She would’ve liked putting her elbow on his shoulder and lean against him, but the damn apparent height difference would make the position awkward and uncomfortable. Ladybug jutted her chin towards the billboard on the roof opposite theirs. There, glaringly obvious, was Marinette’s _other_ problem.

Chat Noir gaped, eyes flicking from Ladybug and the billboard and back. “ _Adrien Agreste_?”

 _Yes, Chat, Adrien Agreste_. Ladybug stifled a hopeless sigh. Who, by the way, was no less merciful than her superhero partner. Adrien had taken a hiatus from modelling for two years—stars called it the awkward phase between boyish to teenager stage—but when he came back one summer, he practically _assaulted_ Marinette.

     Though he was still reserved whenever mingling with others, mindful of his and his father’s reputation, he was definitely more confident now, more outgoing, all bright smiles and easy swagger, laughing and playing with the boys of their class. It didn’t help that he was carefully outgrowing his boyish angel image to the angel that would seduce you—without him knowing. And that’s what makes it so terrible. She was supposed to be over her crush! The universe must’ve hated her.

“What does Adrien Agreste have that I don’t?”

Something about Chat’s tone made Ladybug look at him, finding his eyebrows drawn together, lips pouting. Ladybug looked at the billboard again, surmised that of all the years she’d been crushing on one Adrien Agreste, she was used to seeing him in flattering pictures that seeing one automatically makes her smile. The billboard was no different—he was leaning against an old car model, eyebrows scrunched because of the bright sun, lips slightly parted as he looked straight at the camera. His white button-up sleeves were rolled to his elbows too, the first few buttons opened to reveal the hollow of his throat and the taut skin underneath.

See? _Assault._

“Well,” Ladybug swallowed. “For one, he’s showing more skin than you.”

Whoops. Looks like Chat Noir didn’t know what to make of that.

Then she wished he hadn’t, because the smirk he showed her was positively _carnal_. “Are you saying I should show more skin, bugaboo?”

“Please don’t,” she only lately realized that her voice sounded strangled, so she cleared her throat. “All of Paris is already granted with the image of your… very… superlative form. Don’t cause the death of half the population by showing some skin.”

“I’ll think about it,” he pretended to hum in thought. Ladybug shifted on her feet. “Are you going to be part of that population?”

“W-what?”

Oh, so now she’s squeaking.

“Are you going to be part of the population that dies? ‘Cause I’m not sure I can handle living without you.”

 _Oh._ Ladybug relaxed, sending him a wry smile and poking his arm. “Really, Chat Noir?”

“Really, my lady,” he placed a hand over his heart, his eyes shining with such sincerity that Ladybug had to swallow the gasp threatening to escape her lips. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

_Double kill._

Forget his fucking superlative form, it’s things like that that does her in. Somewhere between his playful flirting and quips, there were moments like this, where the night is quiet and peaceful and the air is cold, and Chat’s warmth is a hairbreadth away, never hers to fully consume but it _feels_ like it can be hers. There were moments like this where she can almost trick herself to believing him.

For all his games and jokes, Chat never was the one to do something he didn’t mean. He was always kind and understanding, and even when she wasn’t in her best form he was always there to catch her. Literally. Figurativelly. With all its meanings in between.

“Though of course,” Chat turned towards the billboard again, glancing at her slightly with one side of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “I suppose I can still treat you to some skin showing. I _am_ the Cat’s Meow.”

She rolled her eyes and almost giggled, because it was just him to ruin a moment like that, so she leaned upwards and kissed his jaw in complete fondness and resignation. But Chat Noir didn’t count on that, so he stayed stock still until she pulled herself away, which was the only tim she realized what she had actually done.

“Ladybug,” His voice descended to a dangerous almost purr, and Ladybug jerked upright, licking her drying lips. “I—ah. Uh. Have t-to go. I have to. Um. Water the fish. See you next patrol, Chat!”

How can anyone go from drop dead gorgeous to perfectly sweet to downright sinfully attractive?

 _Only Chat Noir_ , Ladybug thought. _Only_ _Chat Noir_.

* * *

 

So maaaybe it wasn’t _only_ Chat Noir.

All things considered, she should’ve recognized that a series of events like that would only lead to something threatening to her mental stability, but aside from being Ladybug the Superhero Extraordinaire, she was also Marinette Dupain-Cheng, whose good luck seems to strip from all of her person out of her costume.

     The events leading to her current predicament were innocent enough, though. She had received a call from Alya, reminding her of the research she, Nino, and Adrien (!!!) had to do for a group project. In a true Marinette fashion, of course she had forgotten, so she had scrambled out of bed, shouted at Tikki to get into the purse, and rushed downstairs without as much as a bagel. Alya told her that Adrien was doing a shoot near her house, and she should maybe check up on him because he was supposed to finish his shoot a little to fifteen minutes ago.

“Besides, you can walk together to school.” Marinette could just _hear_ Alya’s smirk. “Some alone time with Mr. Hotshot, eh Marinette?”

“Can we _not_?”

“Can we not what?”

 _Can we not point out the apparent hotness when I have to face him in less than five minutes?_ She had screamed in her mind, but found no heart to voice it out, so she just hissed at Alya and cut off the line to the sound of her friend’s laughing voice.

When she arrived at the location of the shoot, the first person Marinette had spotted was Ms. Nathalie, who she approached after much deliberation, and inquired about Adrien. The woman only narrowed her eyes at the girl, and without as much as a warning whisked Marinette away towards one of the temporary tents.

“I’ve got the answer,” Ms. Nathalie proclaimed, as if announcing that Jesus Christ had arrived, and Marinette hadn’t missed the relieved look at everyone’s faces.

“Good, good!” a man stepped forward, assessing Marinette closely. “And a nice pair of lips too!”

“E-excuse me?” she stammered, pursing her lips when she noticed the man was staring at her lips in particular. The man clapped his hands, gesturing behind him. “Chop, chop, then, we have no time to lose. Have our model ready!”

Marinette’s eyes were blown wide. “W-What’s happening?”

“We need someone to put a kiss mark on Adrien,” the man finally info— _what?_

“We’re shooting Adrien’s new fragrance ad,” the man explained impatiently. His thick eyebrows were knotting and unknotting, face expressive as he tried to get Marinette to understand. “It’s called Kiss Mark. So we need kiss marks on him for the ad.”

“You um,” she cleared her throat. “Need me to paint a kiss mark on Adrien?”

“Oh, _dieu,_ no. That would be terribly artificial, and we try to keep things natural here. You’re going to _put_ a kiss mark on Adrien.”

“ _How?_ ”

“Why, with your lips, of course!”

     Let’s not delve into the details of how Marinette had frozen into near catatonic shock at that answer. Important thing was, that was what had happened which brought her to this predicament. The man, who she later learned was the photographer-director, told her that no one else would be willing to put a kiss mark on Adrien Agreste (they all worked for _his_ father, after all), and they didn’t want Adrien uncomfortable. They thought that since she was his friend, then maybe he’d be more compliant to the concept. Marinette thought this was touching, until she realized that she was the friend who had to kiss him. She wasn’t even his close- _close_ friends! They were close, sure, but not _that_ close.

You had to kiss him to put a kiss mark on him, right?

Marinette didn’t know what to blame. Or who. Or if she particularly wanted to blame anyone.

So now she stood in front of Adrien, wearing a sultry (if she dared say so herself) dark red lipstick, with the photographer-director and Nathalie behind them, both digging stares of pressure into her back. Adrien was seated in front of her so they were of the same height, allowing her to meet his eyes without much effort.

“Um,” she was about to lick her lips before she was reminded that it was painted with lipstick. “Are you—um. Alright with this?”

She really didn’t want to upset him. Because she was well aware that she’s the only one with the advantage here. And he had beamed so brightly when he saw her too, very nearly knocking the life out of her.

“Are _you_ alright with this?” Adrien blinked at her, innocent and considering. His voice dropped low so the photographer and his father’s assistant wouldn’t hear. “I’m sorry you’ve been roped into this.”

Marinette could cry. He was _apologizing_. And he also apologized about being late to their meeting. And now he’s apologizing to her when _he’s_ the one being kissed. She shook her head, flashing him a small smile.

“Well? Are you two done yet?” The photographer stepped closer towards them. “You have to put the kisses strategically so it’d get good lighting. But not so much that it looks scripted.”

“So where—w-where do I kiss him?”

The photographer hummed thoughtfully. “One on his cheek, I suppose? Then another on his eye.”

Marinette nodded, assessing Adrien’s face. How was it that he had such long eyelashes? And why were his eyes so damn vivid? It’s not helping that his hair was messed just so, like he just rolled out of bed, reminding her of a certain alley c—

 _Wait,_ Marinette screamed frantically in her brain. _Wait! Hold that thought right there! We are_ not _comparing Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste!_

She glanced away from Adrien and looked at the photographer, who made a gesture that said _go on_ , and forced herself to look back at the model, who offered her a smile before closing his eyes. “I’m all yours, Marinette.”

 _Well._ He definitely shouldn’t say things like that. What if she took him up on that offer?

“Make sure it marks,” the photographer reminded her, just as she leaned down towards Adrien’s peaceful and relaxed face, so trusting of her that she had to breathe deeply, smelling the musk and ice and something sweet—mentally taking note that if this was his new fragrance she definitely had to buy one—before pressing her lips carefully against his right cheek.

Both did not count on the sudden jolt they felt when lips touched skin, powerful enough that Adrien had to draw away, but Marinette sensed the movement so she caught his jaw with her nimble fingers, not allowing him to move. Once she was sure the lipstick had marked, Marinette drew away, examining her work and hummed in satisfaction.

_Cheek._

She met Adrien’s eyes, which she hadn’t noticed he opened, feeling a shiver down her spine. His eyes definitely held _something_ , charged with _something_ , as they gazed at her, and she felt her blush only darkening, but she refused to look away and stared at him expectantly, until he closed his eyes again, allowing her to press her lips on his left eyelid.

_Eye._

The photographer beside her peered at Adrien, who had to blink several times, wordlessly staring at Marinette who felt her blush spread to everywhere in her person. “This is good. Maybe you should add one near his lips too? Just so it’s balanced.”

“H-huh?”

“Just near his lips.”

Marinette felt more than saw the gulp Adrien had taken. She looked at him again, wordlessly asking _is this okay?_ , and he replied with an imperceptive nod, so she tilted his chin up, closing her eyes as she pressed her lips at the corner of his, feeling his body tense under her touch.

_Lips._

She pulled away from him again, blinking owlishly at the mark she made. Adrien seemed like he was waiting for her to pull away, her fingers still on his chin, but she whispered a small, “Hang on”, tilting his head to the side so could she press one final kiss just above his jaw line.

When she was done, finally _finally_ done, Adrien stared at her in surprise, and she gave him a near-cheeky grin. “Personalized touch.”

Not that she gives jaw kisses to just anyone.

Marinette stepped back as the photographer stepped in, inspecting Marinette’s work and loudly praising her for it.

Later, she would be in her room and scream in her pillow, with Tikki laughing heartily in the background, comforting the girl who was torn out of her wits.

Much much later, she would get a copy of Adrien’s Kiss Mark poster, where he was leaning over some beam and showcasing _her_ kiss marks, his face angled just so he could show all of them.

Much much much later, it became a signed copy.

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted at prongsprobably.tumblr.com


End file.
